Every year, Tod Caviness turns a handful of talented, sensitive poets into trained monkeys at the Fringe Poetry Vending Machine. Theatre patrons and random drunks at the Orlando Fringe give them a title and three words. This is what they give back.

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Group Orgasms

Who’s looking for a good time?C’mon! Every bathroom stall knows you’re out there.Something better than the beach.&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Sun and surf&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp and fun and turf&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp and a Frisbee hanging from your fucking dog’s mouthThat shit’s for posters&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp that we spread on the bathroom tiles&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp to scoop up the scat&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp for a little game we’ve come to call Sanchez’s Catapult.To even start enjoying the monotony of monotony in this joint&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspyou need at least a sucking neck woundSUCKING being an operative wordAnd OPERATIVE describing the nature of what midgets do to our anuses.

We do it with more oil than a mechanic.We do it on more grass than Brazil’s dead soccer teams.More jet fuel than the Twin Towers.More rust than your mother’s ass and more blood… than your mother’s ass.

You’ve never lived until a priest has attached a lamprey to your balls.And the bite marks spurt onto his collar.&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp And he laughs.&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp And so does the Pope.&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp ‘Cause he’s there too.

No fee or ID.No pussy to penis to power ratio here.Just enter.

Seriously, you trust me?That’s sick.

by Trevor

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Trevor actually managed to visibly offend the nice gay couple that wanted this poem, despite the fact that they provided us the title and custom words like "cum-swap". The Poetry Vending Machine: Imaginations Enhanced, Expectations Exceeded.